The Five Minute Bitch Slap

Invitation is the word for this weeks Sunday Scribblings . Here's my five minutes worth. Enjoy.


Man 1: Look at those two over there.

Man 2: Over there?

Man 1: Yeah, over there. Them two right across the street, there.

Man 2: Yeah, I see them.

Man 1: Of course you see 'em. They're right in front of our fuckin' faces. Whaddya mean, 'you see em'

Man 2: I just said I see them. What else do you want? Eh? What about 'em?

Man 1: What about 'em? I just ask you if you see 'em and you say 'yeah'. Now you gotta ask me 'what about em'? Obviously you weren't really lookin'. If you see 'em like I see 'em you'd know exactly what the fuck I'm talkin' about.

Man 2: What then?

Man 1: Look at 'em! They're fuckin' disgusting! He's sittin' there lookin into her eyes all attentively. It makes me fuckin' sick! She was probably sittin' at home shavin' her box when she got the funny idea to call up Mr. Appleseed. She's all like, 'Hey, Johnny I was thinkin' we could go out to lunch and have something to eat. It'll be like a date but with less strings attached because it's not dinner'!

Man 2: What does dinner have to do with it?

Man 1: Dinner is everything! Dinner is romance. Dinner is deep conversations between shallow people. And most importantly, dinner is fuckin'. Guaranteed. But lunch? Lunch is pretty meaningless, too. It's just people too bored with their fuckin' lives to think of anything intelligent to do. So instead of reading a book or writing the great American novel, they go to Red Lobster and order the sampler platter. After they've milked that for a good hour and a half they go home to fuck. And if the broad wants some alone time? She goes in the bathroom and takes a shit. That, or shave her box. Eating, fucking and shitting. That's what those two right there boil down to.

Man 2: (sighs) So, you wanna leave?

Man 1: Hell no. Wave the waitress down, I'm fuckin' starved!

Damon '08!

I was watching Good Will Hunting last night and thought that this scene was somewhat relevant to what we're all going through right now. Why was I at home on a Friday night, alone? My blue-plate cod with quaker-state gave me a nasty case of the shits. That's why.

A Message to You, Rudy

I shaved my head today. I liken this ritual to the Roman soldiers shaving their heads to prepare for battle. But, as you may know, I do not belong to any standing army. Perhaps it was my childhood run-in with the secret service that makes them weary of me joining their ranks. Or it could possibly be the fact that I enjoying living for just causes as opposed to, you know, what's going on right now.

But the best possible reason could be that I got my contacts in the mail today from 1-800-Contacts and I was so relieved to have my glasses off my face that I went a bit crazy during the whole shedding process.

Bekki's gonna kick my ass when she gets home from work.

Rainy Day Rescue #2 and 13

#2 "Hello? Yes I have your dog. She was wandering around the highway today. She was about to get hit by a semi when I snatched her up. She gets out pretty frequently, huh? You leave the gate open so she can return? You're not sure why she went to the busy streets today instead of the neighborhood streets?" -Bekki on the phone with (un)concerned pet-owner

Maybe that's because dogs lack the reasoning skills that (some) people have!

I met Bekki in the yard this morning to see her cradling a very scared little pooch that was covered in feces. We bathed her (twice) to get the poop from her neck and face. I washed her collar which was covered in poop and wiped the rabies tag clean so we could find a number to call. Bekki soon found out the dog's name (Sadie Mae) and the location of her home (2 blocks from the highway). Sadie Mae soon found a budding friendship with another Southern belle as Dixie made her feel more than welcome to play in the backyard. Ernie, who had to be locked in the computer room, was less welcoming.

Her spotted skin was very apparent, especially when we bathed her. This, coupled with her coloring and face, led us to believe that she is a Jack Russel mix. Her body screams either Dauschund or Basset Hound. A weird combination, I know. After the cat I had to bury a few weeks ago and the German Shepard that ran into the woods off of Highway 70, it was nice to be able to have a successful rescue.

#13 The wife and I finally got to see There Will Be Blood last night. I've been itching to see it for a while and wasn't disappointed. Daniel Day-Lewis was just as phenomenal as he always is. The guy that played Eli was pretty stunning, too. This film brought us back to a conversation we had about another movie we recently saw, Shutter. Joshua Jackson is by no means anywhere close to Daniel Day-Lewis (in the wedding scene he has stubble! who doesn't shave on their wedding day?), but the difference that was the most interesting was the length to which each director went to explain their plot. At the end of Shutter, the director gives you a five minute recap to explain the "twist" as if you're a complete idiot. There Will Be Blood, on the other hand, left us scratching our heads at various occurrences. This leads me to my point. The brilliance of any film (or any other artwork for that matter) is not in any one performance, but in how intelligent the director perceives the audience to be.

The title of this blog is a Bob Dylan reference, just in case that was lost to anyone.

The Best Kind of Staff Infection Never Truly Leaves You

Staffordshire Bull Terrier


This is a link to a short article I wrote. Enjoy!

California Or Bust!

I don't know what that title means, but it sounds fitting. Last night went as well as could be expected when you're trapped in sum "cyber room" (oh, god) with a bunch of pathetic little bitches. The conversation got a little raunchy at times, but Prince and I managed to salvage the bulk of it.

Bitches Shot at My House

Bekki found a BB in our yard the other day. A fucking BB. I already know that Austin's momma called the cops (snitch) on those two neighbor boys (I mean, bitches) for shooting BB's at her house. So I figure it's those same motherscratchers shooting their BB gun at MY house. Fuck that. I'll punch a kid in his face. I don't care how young he is.

But before I could say anything, Austin comes over to share his daily hillbillyisms with us. And then Bekki asks him if he knows anything about the BB. Instead of throwing the boys under the bus, he takes the blame for himself. Now, THAT says something to me. It doesn't even matter who shot the BB, now. Austin had the personal integrity to man up to the situation. Austin's got balls.

*And I haven't read a single page in the last three weeks. I suck.